Growing Wings
by silver thorns
Summary: Because there are some things you just can't tell him, and some things you'll hope he'll never see.


now normally i don't approve of this sort of thing, but i'm making an acception because it's really sad. personally, i think it's pretty obivous when it begins...for those of you who aren't brainy enough or a die-hard fan, it's a day before the game starts.r&r

* * *

I love him.

I shouldn't, I know, but I do. Why? Why him? And why not the man I was meant to marry?

It hurts, sometimes. It eliminates all rational thoughts, till all that remains is a burning desire. I want him to hold me, to kiss me and make all the pain go away.

I shouldn't be a goddess. I'm not pure.

The goddess with the tainted soul.

I look out of the window, and the helplessness crashes down on me. It's so powerful I fall back, crying. Not only am I in love with someone I shouldn't be, I'm too powerless to stop him being killed.

But I am the goddess, am I not? I should be able to do whatever I want. Doesn't mean I can.

I feel so _angry_! Angry at myself, at that priest who cursed me with this fate, at my betrothed for failing to realise that my heart lies elsewhere. Angry at _him_, for being so blind to it all…

He barely speaks, now. Since our parents died, and I became goddess, he's grown so quiet. Sometimes, it's as if he's mute. The only time I ever get to hear his voice, is when he's shouting out orders on the battlefield. His troops love him. They look up to him as their leader, yet they are afraid of the blood lust. He wasn't always like that. He used to be gentle and caring, an innocent child. Wherever he went, laughter followed.

But only I remember that, now.

I can see the empire in the distance, marching towards his tiny castle. They are coming for me. I can feel it. And tomorrow, when all those people are dying on the battlefield, when _he_ is dying, I will be able to do nought but watch.

Shouting my frustration, I throw a book at the door. I am in a prison. Not physically, no. I am allowed anywhere in the castle. No. But in my mind, I cannot get out, not the real me. I have to pretend to be all high and mighty, cold and aloof, when inside I'm just a frightened little girl with a terrible secret.

"Furiae?"

I turn round, and see that the door has opened. And in steps my brother, his blue eyes filled with concern. His eyes are amazing but most of the time they're hidden behind all of that hair.

"Caim! What are you doing here? I thought you were checking the defences?"

He nods, and steps towards me. My heart begins to beat faster. "I was," he says in that beautiful voice of his, "but I heard you scream, and came to see if everything is all right."

"Well, everything's fine." No, everything's not fine.

"Are you sure? You've seemed a bit…depressed, lately."

"No, Caim. I'm fine. Honestly." Why can't you see it? How blind are you!

"Alright…" I can see that he hasn't fallen for it. He knows when I'm not telling the truth. But he can't see inside my heart, which is where it's hiding, trying so hard to get out.

He embraces me, his body warm against mine. I can hear his heart beating, steady and strong, so unlike mine. It is like a bird, fluttering, fast, trying to break free.

"Love you," he murmurs in my ear. I can feel my tears well up at those simple words.

"Love you too," I whisper softly, barely able to keep my voice from wavering. If only you knew just how truthful those words are.

He stays with me, that night. We curl up in my bed, his arms wrapped protectively round me, just like we used to when we were small. In our old home, our rooms were adjoining, and whenever I had a nightmare, or got upset, he would let me sleep with him in his room. And then, in the morning, we'd go into my room, and he'd go frighten the monsters away. We haven't done it as much lately. He's mostly busy, and what would people say if they found their lord in the same bed as his betrothed sister?

It's as if everyone can see my true feelings for him. Everyone, that is, except him.

Stupid Caim.

Maybe it's better this way. Do all gods feel this way? Are they always alone in their suffering? Will they always be destined to live without the love of the one person they truly care about?

The sun rises, finally, and he slips from the bed, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead, before leaving quietly.

It hurts so much.

He's so graceful and quiet, and his voice is so _young_. It's not low and gravely, like the other soldiers, but passionate and filled with an energy that makes you want to follow him, even into the very pits of hell. He's not a big man, either. Underneath all that armour, he's actually quite slender. He used to get so worried about it, but he doesn't need to be big to be strong. It's his fire that people respect, not his muscles.

A bird takes flight, and I watch it as it soars into the sky, free. I wish I could grow wings, and fly away. Leave everything behind. Maybe then the passions will fade away? Or will I just burn in hell forever, as thousands watch mercilessly?

I had a dream about it, once. And guess who was watching as I screamed and writhed in my pain, calling out his name, begging for him to hold me, and make the pain go away?

Growing wings…

He used to say 'mostly if you admit things, it makes it easier.' I wonder if…?

Don't be stupid.

"I love you, Caim."

I sit down at my table, and open a book. But my eyes don't register the words as the pages begin to turn. The sleeves of my gown ruffle slightly in some sudden breeze. I stand up, and see the huge empire has reached the castle.

They are coming for me, and it's only a matter of time before they get what they want. Up high, the bird flies, free, swooping over the clouds.

Growing wings…

"It begins…"


End file.
